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BBQ Chips

by sixthstop


Booh sat on a fleecy rug, surrounded by waving gossamer strands of silky Gnorbu mane and a blue-tiled floor. A vast furniture spectrum composed entirely of blue variations scattered itself throughout the living room, covering all sides of the acutely measured cube. Several blue couches were glued to the ceiling in a diagonal pattern, surrounding a blue coffee table that hung above a blue Neovision, tied to a blue lamp with blue yarn that he stored in a blue cabinet in a blue corner.

      The walls were blue, the household objects were blue, and he himself was a particularly prismatic and vibrant hue of imperial cyan. Totally not blue. Imperial cyan.

      However, the sealed, plastic packing case in front of him was red. Curiously red.

      In truth, Booh was not sure what to make of it. He had an extremely persistent penchant for peering at things that were blue, and the sudden arrival of a superfluous secondary color called scarlet was certainly not a natural component of his supremely sporadic self.

      Perhaps it was here to sabotage his blue belongings? If such was the case, he would be forced to adjourn his meditation in the blue room and flee to his battlements in the local restroom facilities; and there, devise a meticulous plan to break down this new enemy arrival.

      Or it could be here to ask him to a ball? Booh liked ballrooms. His legs, however, always seemed to protest violently at the thought of waltzing across any sort of marbled surface while clad in tailored fabric. Besides, the alien red object seemed to be lacking appendages or opposable thumbs.

      Or, as a twist, it was here to challenge him at a game of chess. He had an inspirational passion for playing chess and had yet to find a suitable rival. Even the best chess players at the national chess-playing society, who played chess and studied chess and even conversed about chess quite frequently, had yet to out-chess him in a single game of chess.

      Of course his thoughts made sense. Why on Neopia would he think that his thoughts didn't make sense?

      He flopped against the carpet, looking at the redness in intense observation. It was then that he realized the package was not only shiny and covered with fascinating phrases, but also slightly open. A faint yet delightful smell bit his nose. Abandoning all caution at this tempting discovery, he pressed his muzzle up against the small hole and bit it - then reeled back as a strange, metallic taste filled his mouth. He was bleeding!

      Oh, he was bleeding! The horror! The woe! The very thought of his impending demise forced a cry from his mouth as he flung his stylish face backward, covering his eyes with a hoof and flailing dramatically as he -

      Wait, no, he wasn't bleeding. His mouth was fine. Booh could tell because, other than the red package, not a single scarlet speck was in sight (thank goodness), and the metallic taste had faded from his mouth. How wonderful!

      The wily redness had tricked him! What an insolent, deceitful red item that soiled his marvelous blue floor! The Gnorbu glared at it spitefully, crouching in what appeared to be some kind of defensive position. It looked more like a frog squat. But that didn't matter - the point was that it was meant to be defensive.

      A furious, rebellious instinct welled up inside of him as he lifted a limb and smacked the package across the room, sneering confidently as it landed with a crackle against the blue shutters of the blue window next to the blue corner with the blue cabinet. He turned away, ready to ignore the oddity of colour completely - or at least locate a pair of blue tweezers to throw out the abomination...

      Until a delicious aroma drowned the room; the very same that he had whiffed previously from the tear in the plastic. Eyes shining, Booh faced the redness once more and trotted towards it. To his surprise, its very organs seemed to have spilled from the widened tear.

      And why, those organs were orange!

      What was this sudden outbreak of not-blue shades exploding in his domestic construction? A conspiracy of Sloth, perchance? A debilitating vision-souring epidemic? With these increasing and startling occurrences, he would have no choice but to manufacture carapaces across his home to protect the blueness of it. However, that meant that the carapaces could not be blue. And so he could no longer look at the blueness of his home without looking at the not-blue carapaces. He sank to his knees as despair lay tons upon his shoulders. Alas, it seemed there was no escape from this tiresome fate...

      Unless, of course, the small, curled, flat oranges that had spilled from the shiny redness were actually small, curled, flat blues disguised as oranges!

      As Booh sat there, looking up at the couches on his ceiling and praising his superb logic and intellect for discovering such a newly-discovered discovery, the scent of the blues-disguised-as-oranges seemed to grow in strength. He approached them carefully, circling thrice before coming to a foot's distance. Sweet saltiness assaulted his nostrils.

      It looked like a chip. It smelled like a chip. It even felt like a chip.

      Using his divine deductions, Booh decided that these strange things were definitely not chips.

      Aha! Was this what he presumed? Perhaps, he had bested the red package - and in return, the package had decided to share his evening meal with him! What an intriguing character the plastic bag held!

      With a nod of appreciation to the scarlet wrapping, the Gnorbu leaned down and bit his teeth into the orange-yet-possibly-blue crispy things. A crunchy, smokey, and blissful flavor enveloped his mouth in an embracing cocoon of joy. His pupils sharpened into specks upon dinner plates as the exotic flavor traveled from tooth to tooth, until it disappeared down his esophagus. He plopped down on his tail and swayed, starstruck by the overwhelming delight of the delicacy, vision blurring with flowers and endless pastures.

      As the last effects of the euphoria faded away, Booh looked down at the small curled flat things - and gasped. One of them was bitten off! It lay abandoned on the blue floor, several inches away from its other crispy companions. Not only that, it was missing a half!

      Oh, this was his fault, wasn't it? Had he forcefully taken away poor Bob from his other delicious family members? What if it had a wife and children? No - worse yet - what if he had just eaten half of old Bob's child? Booh huddled shamefully in his mane at his own despicable actions, mourning for the loss of the curled flat blue-disguised-as-an-orange crispy chip.

      Oho, yes; it was then, in a time of crisis, that he recalled it was food! Food wasn't alive. Chips didn't mind if they were killed. Wait, a chip? What in Fyora's name was a -

      Aha, yes! Chips! These things were called chips! He truly was a genius, wasn't he?

      Taking a few more moments to, once again, marvel at the wonders of his vast portions of brain, Booh carefully devoured the rest of the half-eaten "chip". It was delicious! It was delectable! Chips were brilliant things! He had once eaten a blue chip before. But this... this blue-disguised-as-an-orange chip was absolutely wonderful! He stuffed five more chips inside of his bulging mouth and wondered if blue chips would carry the same flavor if he painted them orange.

      Although then he would need to get orange paint, then bring the orange paint inside of his house. That wouldn't do. Unless he disguised the orange paint as blue! But how would he do that? Would he paint the orange paint with blue paint? Oh, but then the orange paint would not be orange anymore, and he would not be able to paint the blue chip orange. But perhaps it would be acceptable if the orange paint was disguised as blue paint. Or he could disguise the blue paint that would be used to disguise the orange paint, and paint the blue paint an orange disguise! Then use the disguised blue paint to paint the orange paint a disguise, and then paint the chip a disguise. No, wait, that wouldn't work. Did the chip need two disguises? No - better yet - perhaps he should paint it both blue and orange! Surely, the thought of two colours sharing one chip was a thought that could only come from his own superior mindset!

      The concept of blue chips disguised as orange chips...How deep the idea had turned out to be! He decided to return to his former spot - before the orange chips had arrived - for some quiet meditation.

      Booh sat on a fleecy rug, surrounded by waving gossamer strands of silky Gnorbu mane and a blue-tiled floor. A vast furniture spectrum composed entirely of blue variations scattered itself throughout the living room, covering all sides of the acutely measured cube. Several blue couches were glued to the ceiling in a diagonal pattern, surrounding a blue coffee table that hung above a blue Neovision, tied to a blue lamp with blue yarn that he stored in a blue cabinet in a blue corner.

      The only exception to this blue-ruled decorum was a red bag and a cluster of orange chips, lying peacefully against the wall.

The End

Author's Note: Someone dared me to write a story about eating chips.

...Don't dare me, you guys.

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